


Terms of Agreement

by szhismine



Series: McHanzo Trash [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Awkward Romance, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-19 07:36:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7351921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/szhismine/pseuds/szhismine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“...So we're not comrades?” It was pure effort that kept Jesse's voice from wavering.</p><p>“Y- no.”</p><p>His next question was barely above a whisper. “Then what are we?”</p><p>Hanzo's expression was as stoic as ever, but his voice betrayed his confusion, and he still averted his eyes. “I don't know.”</p><p>*</p><p>McHanzo, and my take on how their relationship evolves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Terms of Agreement

Leaning against the doorway, Jesse McCree crossed his arms as he tried to suppress an irritated sigh. He was already dressed, wearing everything except his breastplate. He didn't like to wear it at headquarters, didn't like being in a constant state of readiness. He may have agreed to rejoin Overwatch, but he was no spring chicken anymore. If Winston expected him to jump up and volunteer for every mission that became available, he could think again.

Watching Hanzo fasten his yukata around his waist, Jesse wondered if the archer was in a similar mindset. His arm guard and Storm Bow were both tucked safely into the large chest at the foot of his bed, his quiver leaning against it. Within arm's reach if he needed them, but unequipped nonetheless during downtime. And he knew for a fact Hanzo was even pickier about the jobs he took than he was, even though he was new to the team.

Despite both of them being less active than some of their other counterparts, it wasn't often they were both at Gibraltar at the same time. When they were, it was never for long. This time was no exception- Hanzo was recently returned from Hanamura, finishing up some last-minute business; meanwhile, Jesse would be headed to Nepal first thing in the morning with Genji, to collect the omnic monk Zenyatta. The spacing had given them almost three whole days together, more than they've had since their arrangement began. But it didn't feel like enough. It was never enough.

“Are you lost within your mind again, cowboy?” The question was asked with amusement. More than once Hanzo caught Jesse daydreaming with a faraway look on his face. But every time he asked what the man was thinking, he was met with deflection.

Pushing off the wall, Jesse sighed. Last thing he needed was Hanzo figuring out he was pining like a schoolgirl with a crush. That wasn't what they had agreed on, and he wasn't a man who went back on his word. “Nah, just wonderin'... has anyone ever told ya how beautiful ya are?” Of course, that didn't mean he couldn't flirt as shamelessly as possible.

Hanzo's eyebrows raised in surprise, before he answered with a low chuckle. “Not quite like that. But I am no stranger to flattery.”

“Yeah I'll bet. 'Specially not from me.”

“Especially not from you.” Hanzo's lips quirked into a smile. Jesse certainly did like to express himself, whether on a mission or in bed. The man could shoot the breeze as fast he could shoot his gun. A quality Hanzo had first found irritating. Now...

“Hmm.” Standing straight, Jesse hooked his thumbs under his gaudy belt buckle. “Ya know, I can't help but notice yer always on the receivin' end... of compliments.” His lewd grin made Hanzo roll his eyes. “C'mon, ain't there anythin' you'd like ta say 'bout my fine features?” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“I think your ego is large enough already,” Hanzo quipped, his eyes darting downwards for a second.

Jesse rewarded him with a smirk. “Ya weren't complain' 'bout the size of my ego earlier,” he drawled, spurs jingling as he stepped forward, until they were a foot apart. “In fact I'd say it's in yer best interest to inflate it. Unless ya just can't handle an ego that big.”

“You are incorrigible, Jesse McCree.” Hanzo looked away, still smiling, as he began to tie back his hair. His gaze fell to the golden strip of cloth on his dresser, and he picked it up, running his thumb over the familiar silken fabric.

“I don't know the meanin' of the word,” Jesse retorted, laughing as he took a step back. Hanzo hadn't taken the bait, so the chance of a repeat performance was slim. “C'mon, ya gotta have _something_ nice ta say 'bout me. Don't make a man go fishin' for compliments.” He struck a pose. “So other than my _ego_ , what really gets yer motor runnin'? It's my hair, right? Nah, wait, gotta be the beard. I've been told-”

“Your eyes,” Hanzo interrupted before the cowboy kept going. With slow, practiced movements he finished fastening the scarf around his ponytail.

Blinking stupidly, Jesse felt his cheeks flush. “Uh, really?” That was a much more intimate answer than he was prepared for.

Hanzo turned to face the gunslinger again. “Certainly. When I look into someone's eyes, I look beyond their shape or their colour. Superficial features are not what draws me to a person.” He tilted his head, observing Jesse's face closely as he explained. “There is an expression you Westerners use. 'The eyes are the windows to the soul'. I always seek to glimpse the soul within a person, to find that light that makes them who they are.” He hesitated, shifting his weight almost nervously. “When I look at you, your inner light is red. Red is the colour of the sun, and the colour of passion. Your soul is a flame, and that is where your beauty comes from.”

Jesse was quiet at that, jaw open slightly in disbelief. In his many, _many_ years as a bachelor, finding random fun in seedy dives, he sure as hell never had a lover who'd talked to him like that. _No one_ had ever talked to him like that. A thought popped into the back of his mind that maybe, deep down, that was what he'd always wanted. Someone who could see who he really was. That is, if any of what Hanzo had just said was true. He'd given up on the concept of souls a long damn time ago. “Do men like me even have a soul?” The question slipped out before he could stop himself.

Hanzo didn't hesitate. “I believe so, yes.” He must believe it, because if it were not true, then he himself would not have one. Without a soul, a chance at redemption would be lost to him forever.

Lips parting as he exhaled a sigh, Jesse turned his back to Hanzo. For some reason the answer had the opposite of its intended effect, and he grimaced, wanting nothing more than a shower and some whiskey right now. “See ya around, Shimada.”

Hanzo was taken aback, both by the abruptness of the farewell, and the formality of it. “McCree-”

“Well whaddya want me ta say?” He snapped defensively, cringing at his tone, and he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fuck- just forget it, I'm outta here. Got a mission in the mornin'.”

“ _Jesse._ ”

That made him pause in the doorway. Hanzo never used his first name other than in bed. “Yeah, what?”

There was a moment of tense silence. Just as Jesse was about to move again, Hanzo spoke up. “Do not let your inner light die out. That would... be unfortunate.” The archer brought up his hand, as if to grasp at Jesse's arm, but thought better of it and let it fall to his side instead. 

Jesse looked over his shoulder, wondering what the warning was for. “Unfortunate for whom?”  
  
“For you. For your comrades. For... me.” Hanzo kept his gaze firmly at the level of Jesse's chest, staunchly refusing to look higher.

“...So we're not comrades?” It was pure effort that kept Jesse's voice from wavering.  
  
“Y- no.”

His next question was barely above a whisper. “Then what are we?”

Hanzo's expression was as stoic as ever, but his voice betrayed his confusion, and he still averted his eyes. “I don't know.”

Jesse felt his heart plummet into his stomach, even though he hadn't been expecting much else. “Well-” His metal hand curled into a fist. “Glad that's settled.” Before either of them could say another word he was gone.

Now alone in his room, Hanzo bowed his head, disappointment swelling within him. Obviously he had misjudged the situation, spoken of things he should not have. He knew Jesse was used to a lifetime of avoiding relationships. He knew it because he was exactly the same. Never spending more than a single night with a person, never telling them endearing things or speaking of the beauty of their soul. For a brief moment, he dared to hope that maybe, just maybe, the cowboy was as tired of that lifestyle as he was. That their similarities ran deeper than a mutual physical attraction. But he was wrong. Apparently there was no deeper connection to be had.

After all, that was not what they had agreed to.

 

**Author's Note:**

> My first McHanzo fic! Please comment, share, leave kudos. I love feedback! :)


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